


Thanks

by SapphoIsBurning



Series: A WWE Roman-tic Come-Dean [2]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Family Feels, Food, M/M, Patti pies, Thanksgiving Dinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 17:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5299451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphoIsBurning/pseuds/SapphoIsBurning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean decides he's going to cook Thanksgiving dinner in his hotel room, no one can stop him. But they can join him!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thanks

**Author's Note:**

> Set right after "Breakfast for Dinner". I had a nice Thanksgiving and wanted them to, too. I'm a grumpy girl who hasn't actually watched this week's Smackdown so there's some handwaving going on. But the oven is real.

“You can’t cook a turkey in a hotel room,” Roman insisted. They were backstage at Smackdown, hovering around the gorilla seat waiting for Dean’s cue.

“Yes you can. I know Big E has done it before. You gotta get the electric oven, what is it, the Flavor Wave? You just plug that fucker in and it’ll do up the turkey.” Dean gestured excitedly. “It tastes real good. Better than room service, better than Denny’s. Better than Chinese delivery.”

“I’m not sure anything’s better than Chinese delivery,” Roman said. “Well, except my mom’s cooking.” He sighed and scratched the back of his neck. The both knew that they were booked solid with house shows and appearances through the holiday and there would be no way to get home to visit family.

“Come on. We’re done with the taping, we can get to Wal-mart in like ten minutes flat, we’ll get all the stuff, and it’ll be great. You can drown your sorrows in gravy!” He slapped Roman on the back as his entrance music came on and he dashed off.

***

They pushed the shopping cart through the store, trying to look inconspicuous in the rush of people. The Tuesday before Thanksgiving was a challenging time to be shopping.

“Nobody recognized us in the parking lot,” Roman said in a low voice. “It’s a Thanksgiving miracle. Let’s see how far we get.”

They headed toward the “As Seen on TV” aisle, looking for something to cook a bad idea in. Sure enough, there it was: an electronic infrared tabletop convection oven, on sale for $49.99. There was only one left.

“What are you guys doing here?” a voice said behind them. They turned around to see Kofi, Xavier, and Big E trying to shop casually. They were pushing a shopping cart full of boxed pies and whipped cream.

“We’re making Thanksgiving dinner,” announced Dean.

“You stole my idea,” said E, sounding dramatically wounded.

“And we stole your oven,” Dean replied, grabbing the device from the display and putting it in their cart.

“Fine, but we got _all_ the rest of the Patti Pies from the store,” added Kofi. He grinned. “If you invite us over, we’ll share.”

“Deal,” Dean said.

“Can Sasha come too?” asked Xavier.

“Sure, she’s cool. BYOB though. Last time y’all were over you drank all my beer and you owe me.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Big E said with his hands up defensively.

“Room 1167 of the Comfort Inn near the airport,” Dean added. “Not sure how long the turkey will take to be ready though.”

“I thought it was just going to be us,” Roman said to Dean after the guys had left to finish their shopping.

“Oh. Like, _just us_ just us or just _us_?”

“I don’t know what the difference is.”

“Like, you licking gravy off my balls just us or quiet sitting and watching TV just us?”

“Um. Both.”

Dean looked amazed and puzzled. “Well. I’m sure they’ll leave eventually. Also, better buy gravy.” He pushed the cart away with purpose, heading toward the meat section. Roman just shook his head.

New Day got the last pies; they got the last oven; and a little old lady in front of them got the last turkey. She snatched it up into her cart before they could stop her.

“Well. We could just get a big chicken and pretend it’s a turkey,” said Roman.

Dean looked down disappointedly. “But you’re supposed to have turkey,” he said. “I was trying to do it right.”

“Never fear, the boss is here,” someone said behind them.

“Sasha, Jesus, is everyone on the roster in this Wal-mart tonight?”

“I heard I’m invited to your party,” she said, reaching up to sling an arm around each of them. “Good thing, because I grabbed the second-to-last turkey out of the fridge, just in case. It’s a little small, but it’s better than nothing.”

Dean grinned. “It’s BYOB, just so you know.”

“Yeah, I got the message. Champagne’s on me tonight, boys,” she said. She plunked her turkey into their cart, and then careened off toward the alcohol section.

“What kind of champagne can you buy at Wal-mart?” asked Roman.

“Dunno,” said Dean. “It’s probably a good deal, though. Maybe we should get some.”

“No, we shouldn’t,” said Roman.

They picked up instant mashed potatoes, some kind of microwave stuffing, jars of gravy, cranberry sauce, a can opener, milk, butter, paper plates, plastic forks, and beer. Their cart was very full by the time they checked out.

The cashier gave the two of them a curious eye. Roman felt his stomach sink. He didn’t want to be a superstar tonight, he just wanted…to be with family.

“Are you…” she started, then glanced at Dean, a distance behind Roman and the groceries, examining a rack of holiday candy on the endcap. “…two together?” she finished.

“Oh. Um. Yes, actually,” said Roman.

“Okay.” She cheerfully rang everything up and he got out his wallet to pay.

“Ro, no, come on,” Dean said, pushing him out of the way. “This was my idea.” He pulled a wad of twenties out of a battered leather wallet that had been duct-taped back together and handed them to the cashier.

“You two are cute,” she said. “Paper or plastic?”

Roman suppressed a grin but Dean let his show. “Plastic,” he said, copping a feel on Roman and making a sly face.

***

They trundled everything they had purchased up the elevator to their room and unpacked it. “You think I can make these potatoes in the coffee maker?” asked Dean.

“…that doesn’t sound like a good idea, but I grew up with an actual stove, so who knows. Do your thing.”

“Hey,” Dean said, lightly wounded, “We _had_ a stove, we just couldn’t pay the gas bill so we could never use it.”

They unboxed the weird oven-like device. “12 minutes a pound for turkey, so we better fire it up soon,” Dean said, squinting at the directions. “Text Big E. Turkey should be done by…Jesus, one am? I didn’t realize how long this shit takes to cook. Can we just turn the oven on hotter and make it go faster?”

Roman just looked at him.

“Okay, okay,” Dean said, hitting a button to turn the machine on and pressing a few more to set it for the turkey.

“ _Now_ do we have a few minutes to ourselves?” Roman asked.

“Sure. Were you serious about the gravy? Maybe we should go in the bathroom…”

“Just shut up and come here.” Roman reached out, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and kissing him, feeling tender.

“You need to shave,” Roman laughed.

“So do you.”

“I’m not allowed to.”

They kissed again, Dean backing Roman toward the bed when there was a knock at the door.

“We don’t want any!” shouted Dean.

“That’s my line,” Roman said, breaking the kiss and going to look through the peephole.

“Heard you guys were having a party! What’s a party without family,” a voice said on the other side of the door.

Roman sighed. “It’s my cousins.” He opened the door.

Jimmy and Jey Uso stomped in, Jimmy carrying a case of beer and Jey with about six bags of Doritos. “Can we trade chips for turkey?”

“If you can wait two hours for the stupid thing to be done,” Dean said. “How’d you even hear?”

“Sasha told Tamina, who told Naomi, who told me,” Jimmy said. “They’re on their way. Why didn’t you call me, bro?” He looked at Roman, who grimaced.

“I didn’t know it was going to be this kind of party.”

“Well, I guess Thanksgiving is supposed to be about family,” said dean. “Get your asses in here and open me a beer.” He shut the door behind them and put his hand gently on Roman’s back.

***

Two hours later, the party was in full swing. Sasha had hooked someone’s phone up to the stereo and was DJ-ing (mostly Christmas music, but tasteful). It wasn’t her phone, though, because she was texting someone full time on that one.

The potatoes were edible, even if they had to keep making tiny batches in the pot. And the turkey was actually cooked, though all they had to carve it with were plastic knives.

The beer was almost gone, but true to her word, Sasha had produced some random brand of champagne along with plastic flutes. She, Kofi, and Big E were toasting each other and singing along to the music over the sweet potato pies that the New Day guys brought, which were as delicious as promised.

Jey Uso had brought a pack of cards so he, Jimmy, Naomi, and Xavier were perched around a table playing spades.

Sasha snuck another look at her phone, seeing some kind of notification that lit her face up. She texted someone back.

Dean and Roman found themselves in a pocket of quiet in the corner of the room near the weird turkey oven.

“It’s good, but not as good as my mom’s,” Roman said over the turkey.

“Everybody always talks about their mom’s cooking being so good. So is it that everybody else has a mom who gave a shit, or does everybody’s mom’s food taste good to them, no matter how it actually tastes?” Dean wondered with a mouthful of instant mashed potatoes.

“Dude, I’m sorry,” he said. “I know family shit is…” He trailed off, not sure what to say.

There was a lingering pause. Dean looked at Roman with soft eyes.

“Forget it,” Dean said. “I got you, I got a turkey leg, I got friends who want to stay up ‘til 2 am singing Jingle Bells cause we’re all lonely fucks. It ain’t so bad. You can make a family outta anything.”

 

 


End file.
